The Tables Turn
by PrincessEilonwy
Summary: A phrase which here means Nero gets his comeuppance. Do not read this story, as it contains misused letter openers, ignorance of elementary musical terms, and the principal of Prufrock Preparatory Academy.


Disclaimer: I own the principal, who by logical reasoning should own the school.  However, Lemony Snicket owns the school and the vice-principal.

A/N: I wrote this last night because I got the idea right before we left for church that morning.  I couldn't resist.  If you think it's stupid I'm sorry, there is a huge element of stupidity.  But it's funny stupidity.  Oh, and also Nero is almost a sympathetic character.  Strange, huh?…No, wait, come back!  It's not that scary, I promise!

The Tables Turn

Vice-Principal Nero was nervous.  It was not a feeling he was accustomed to, and he disliked it.  His job as vice-principal was to make others nervous.  He was very successful at his job.

This did not keep him from being nervous as he plodded down the narrow corridor toward the principal's office.

It is often true that thinking of things that make you happy or that you are good at can keep you from thinking of unpleasant things.  However, this was not the case with Vice-Principal Nero.  It made him happy to torment students.  He was good at it.  But there were no students around to torment.  Nobody approached the principal without an appointment on pain of death.

"On pain of death" is a phrase that usually means "under any circumstances or for any reasons".  Under these particular circumstances, though, Nero thought the phrase was eerily appropriate and perhaps prophetic.  He walked a little faster.

Suddenly, he wished he had his violin.  His fingers itched to play one of the many brilliant symphonies he had composed himself and performed so many times before adoring audiences.  If only he had his violin…But no, the principal hated music in all forms and had made that abundantly clear when Nero first came to work at Prufrock Prep.

"I admire your administrative skills, Nero," he had said sternly, leaning back in his desk chair.  "But I understand you play the…the…the violin."  He said the word with a grimace of pain.

Nero had nodded, dimly aware somewhere in the murky depths of his dim little mind that his new employer did not sound pleased.

"This is your only warning," the principal growled softly, sitting forward and glaring at Nero.  "You _will not_ perform, discuss, or even think about music in my presence.  Do I make myself clear?"

He did.

Remembering this conversation, Nero did his best not to think about music.  He would not think about the fact that his violin needed to be tuned and warmed up for tonight's performance.  He would not think about the movement he had almost finished, lying neglected on his desk.  He would not…

With a jolt, he realized that he had already reached the office door.  Taking a deep breath, he knocked and closed his eyes.

"Ah.  Vice-Principal.  Do come in," said Principal Caligula as he opened the door.

Nero followed him into the office and sat down in a very uncomfortable chair facing the desk.  Caligula smiled at him, showing all his sharp teeth, and locked the door.  Nero broke out in a cold sweat.

"Er, sir…" he began.  "I hope my work recently has been to your complete satisfaction.  I know you set high standards—"

_"I hope my work recently has been to your complete satisfaction,"_ Caligula mimicked in a high-pitched voice.  _"I know you set high standards._  Well, I must say that some of your administrative decisions lately have…shall I say…left much to be desired."  He threw himself into his desk chair, picked up a letter opener with a skull and crossbones engraved on it, and began to clean his teeth.

Nero willed himself to stay calm.  "I realize I've made mistakes, sir," he admitted humbly.  "But everyone makes mistakes, don't they?  Meaning no offense, of course, I'm sure that you yourself have made some mistakes in the course of your enlightened life.  Infinitesimal ones, of course," he added hastily.  "Microscopic mistakes."

_"Everyone makes mistakes, don't they?"_ mimicked Caligula.  "Well, I don't!"  He tossed the letter opener carelessly over his shoulder, shattering an expensive-looking vase.  Nero winced.  "I am perfect, Vice-Principal.  Absolutely perfect.  Do you understand that?"

"Of course, sir," Nero said, hearing the slight panic in his own voice.

_"Of course, sir,"_ Caligula mocked, glaring at Nero.  "Good," he continued, standing up and beginning to pace the room.  "I'm glad you understand that, because you don't seem to understand much else."  Nero bristled but remained silent.

Caligula looked disappointed.  "Well?" he demanded.  "Say something so I can mimic you again!"

"Uh…"  Nero wasn't sure what to say.  He had never been in a situation quite like this before, and he decided he didn't like it one bit.  Still, this was the man that paid him, and he could be allowed a few eccentricities.

Caligula opened a drawer, produced a letter opener identical to the one he had discarded, and offered it to Nero.  "Dental hygiene is very important, as I'm sure you know," he said seriously.

"Indeed," Nero squeaked, taking the proffered letter opener.  He looked up, hoping that Caligula would look away so he could get rid of the thing, but the principal was watching him intently.  There was no help for it.  Slowly and self-consciously, he began to pick his teeth.

_"Indeed."_  Caligula sat back down and smiled a toothy, predatory smile.  "That's much better," he said, rubbing his hands together.  "I like my victims to have clean teeth."

Victims?

"We have a problem, Vice-Principal," Caligula continued, putting his feet up on the desk.  "The other night I was sitting in my office, much like this, when I heard something.  Do you know what that something was?"

"No," Nero said carefully, though he had a feeling that he must know if Caligula was mentioning it.

_"No,"_ Caligula mimicked.  "That something was a violin."

Nero paled, but Caligula went on with malicious glee.  "During your little concert, while you were playing very loud—"

"Fortissimo," Nero muttered.

_"Fortissimo._  While you were playing very loud, the raucous screech of your little stringed torture device penetrated the soundproof walls of my office."  Caligula stopped and fixed him with a glare.  "I cannot abide that, as you well know.  The concerts must stop immediately."

"Stop?" he gasped.  "Immediately?  But…but…"

"No buts!" thundered Caligula.  "They must and will stop.  Cease.  Desist.  'Desist' is a fancy word for 'cease', which is a fancy word for 'stop'."

"I know what the word 'desist' means," Nero grumbled, unable to stay quiet.

Caligula scowled at him.  "This is our problem, Vice-Principal.  _I know what the word 'desist' means._  You know too much."

Nero blinked.  "But I'm a vice-principal," he protested.  "I'm supposed to know a lot of things."

"SILENCE!" Nero yelled, bringing his fist down on the desk with a crash.  "Do not contradict me!"

"I didn't!" Nero flared.  Then he realized what he had just said and clapped his hands over his mouth.  It was too late.

Rising menacingly from his chair, Caligula towered over Nero.  "This is the last straw," he seethed.  "You are _fired."_

This was incomprehensible for a few seconds.  Fired?  Teachers got fired.  Cafeteria workers got fired.  Vice-principals did not get fired.

Nero was too surprised to bring this fact of life to Caligula's attention.  "But—" he stammered inarticulately and had to stop to breathe before he could continue.  "But I'm the vice-principal!"

_"But I'm the vice-principal,"_ Caligula sneered.  "Well, I'm the principal.  And I say you're fired, you cakesniffer."

"You can't fire me!"  Nero argued.  "Where will you find another vice-principal as well-trained as I am?  We're very rare."  He puffed out his chest proudly.

Caligula laughed.  "Hee hee hee.  Actually, I have just the right person for the job."  Crossing to the office door, he unlocked it and stuck his head out into the corridor.  "You may come in now," he told someone outside the door.

Nero stiffened.  He had never been so insulted in his life.  Caligula had actually had his replacement picked out before he even talked to him!  Of all the nerve…

Caligula turned back to him.  "Nero, meet the new vice-principal of Prufrock Preparatory Academy."  He threw the door open.  "May I present…my good friend Incitatus."

Nero's jaw dropped.

"Neigh," said Vice-Principal Incitatus.

A/N: Yay!  It's randomness!  I wrote that way too late at night.  I really did.  If you didn't get the ending, you need to study Roman history.  But I had to ask my mother for help, so I can't talk.  Caligula was a psychotic Roman emperor who made his horse Incitatus a consul.  Don't ask why, even someone as obviously round the bend as I cannot fathom why he would make his horse a consul.  But I thought it was amusing to fire Nero, so I had to do this.  Sometimes the best person for the job is a horse.  So…review, please!


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